An unlikely friend
by jambled
Summary: Nights like these, sans Booth, the quiet made her thoughts glitter too darkly until putting on music couldn't even lighten her mood. Nights like these were when she called the person she'd never told Angela or Booth about. Post 2x12.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Notes:__ Set after 2x12. Slightly AU in nature. Rated for adult themes and scenarios._

_Reviews = love._

She wasn't sure exactly what had happened. Epps had been there, ready to bludgeon her with a tire iron. Booth had entered, gun drawn, and she'd been thanking the circumventing measures she'd taken to get a gun licence without Booth's knowledge. She'd seen the look in Epps' eyes; his IQ was high enough for him to have figured all the probabilities and variables that existed, and to come to the conclusion that death was his best option. They'd chased him towards the balcony. Booth's arms were longer, his grip stronger. But Epps had still fallen out of reach.

She'd tried to make excuses for Booth but he wouldn't take them. She tried to make excuses for herself, for not reaching far enough, but she knew when she was just rationalising to make herself feel better. And then Booth left.

The agents that had been guarding her followed soon after until it was just her, sitting, arms crossed at her table, wondering where to go from there. Booth would be at the hospital, with Cam. Angela would be with Hodgins, trying to forget the human heart she'd been sent. There was a report to write, to exonerate Booth from any blame the bureau might choose to place on him. The blame he placed on himself, she wasn't sure she could reach. Sometimes he seemed so far away, the self imposed walls around him so impenetrable that she wondered in these moments if they'd ever been close or whether it was just a façade.

At night, when it was quiet, when they'd just been through a particularly gruelling case, Booth would usually show up with Thai food and they'd sit, talk about anything but the case, pretend they hadn't just seen enough to make them both lose faith in the humanity of people. Nights like these, sans Booth, the quiet made her think too much about what the point of it all was until putting on music wouldn't even drown it out. Nights like these were when she called the person she'd never told Angela or Booth about.

After almost two years, she still knew the number. She just hoped he would still be on the other end.

"Hey." She thought it was his voice, but she couldn't be sure.

"Carlos?" There was a pause and she knew he was struggling to place her.

"Temperance?"

"Yeah."

"You're not okay." He said it as a statement and she knew he didn't read her tone so much as realise that she only called when she was teetering on the edge of a precipe.

"No."

There was a pause between them and she could hear him breathing. Times like these felt so familiar to her. She used to listen to him breath, in the dark beside her, and know she was safe.

"I'm going to send a car for you. Ten minutes." He disconnected and she listened to the dial tone for a minute more, pondering why she'd called. Carlos was one of the people from her past that she'd actually kept in touch with. Their meetings were erratic and for entirely selfish reasons. They'd been comforting each other since they were both fifteen and found themselves in the same foster hell house. Carlos had taken to sleeping in her room after their foster father had tried to sneak in late one night. She'd called out to anyone to help her and he'd been there straight away. There was a brief fight; Carlos punching the other man in the face while he was still buckling his pants up. He'd left without what he came for and Carlos had held her until she stopped shaking. After that night he'd wait until everyone else was in bed then sneak across the hallway to her room. Eventually they'd been found out, and kicked out, their foster parents finally finding a technicality they could get rid of them on. She'd never slept with him in the way they imagined until later, but she'd also never forgotten what it was like to wake up feeling safe.

The buzzer rang from downstairs and she grabbed her bag as she left.

xXx xXx xXx

He looked the same as she remembered; coal black skin, perfect features marred only by the scar that ran down from his cheekbone, past his jaw to his neck. It had been a knife fight on the street. She still remembered seeing him walk into the group home, one hand holding the side of his face. She'd hurried him to the bathroom and used sticky tape to patch up his face until they could both sneak off to get him to hospital. She'd been so worried that he'd pass out on the floor that she kept slapping him on the other side of his face to keep him awake. He still reminded her of it occasionally, telling her that she'd slapped him so hard the pain had kept him from thinking about all the blood she had on her hands.

"Hey." He drew her into a warm hug and invited her in. She let the door close behind him before she reached up to kiss him. She needed more than the comfort of a friend. She needed the kind of connection that only the closeness of sex could bring.

"A drink?" He smiled at her and she nodded, took her jacket off and let it fall to the floor.

"You seeing anyone?" She was genuinely interested in his life. They weren't the type of friends to talk on the phone. They never promised to catch up, or meet for coffee because the things they'd been through were worth more than that.

"Not at the moment. Business keeps me busy." Even if he had been seeing someone, Temperance knew her coming over, being with him, would never count as cheating to either of them. It was what they needed to do, for an old friend.

"Hm." She preferred not to know much about what he did. He had rows of black cars in the garage and lived in a house with a view that would probably make Hodgins look twice. She knew it wasn't above board and that this was in direct conflict with what she did and the kind of people that she worked with but she'd known him before she'd chosen her career field and she would always accept every facet of his personality. Underneath the cloudy job description and henchmen that showed up at all hours, she knew there was still the fifteen year old who'd held her in the dark.

"It's been a few years." She sat on one end of his enormous lounge as he spoke and tucked her feet up under her after kicking her shoes off.

"I haven't seen you since that… Since a work deal of yours went bad." She'd read something about it in the paper; the FBI had tried to take down Carlos' organisation from the inside, but several agents placed undercover had been killed. Carlos had told her that he never wanted people to die. She'd been living with Peter then so Carlos had booked them into a honeymoon suite under fake names. She'd taken a rare day off work, told Peter she had to work late. In the middle of the night, she'd woken up the strange bed, felt Carlos' arm smoothly around her stomach and had felt as if she could stay that way forever. In the morning, as usual, they went their separate ways.

"Did he ever find out?" Carlos said, referring to Peter.

"No. We broke up a few months after that." She took a sip out of her drink and sighed with satisfaction. She never knew what it was he mixed, but it went down smoothly enough to assure her that it was probably top shelf and wouldn't give her a hangover tomorrow.

"I hear you're working with the FBI now." As usual, Carlos knew what was going with her. She was never sure, but she thought he sometimes assigned his men to it, checking she was safe. As good as Booth thought his agents were, Carlos' men were like black smoke; hard to spot, impossible to pin down.

"Consulting on cases."

"And more than that. I heard you got kidnapped… Buried alive. You always managed to put yourself in danger." He trailed off as he sat next to her. She leant into him and traced his scar, tried hard not to think of Epps creeping through her house with a tire iron in his hand.

"You were the one who said pain makes you feel alive." He smiled and drained his drink. The city was spread out before them so that it looked as if the glass wasn't there at all and they were sitting far above the world.

"Does it?" He asked. She dropped her hand back to her lap and half shrugged.

"Sometimes it just makes me feel sad." She said. He wrapped an arm around her and she let him take her drink out of her hands, put it on the table. Their movements were unhurried and comfortable. His hands found the buttons on her jeans easily and she felt her tongue trace his scar the way it always did. His weight pressed on her and she felt her mind clearing. Worries about Booth faded as her shirt was pulled over her head. His hands fit her waist as perfectly as they had the first time and the sadness began to subside.

xXx xXx xXx

Her phone rang suddenly, making her sit up. Carlos was beside her and she watched as his eyelids fluttered, opened, watched her search for her phone.

"Brennan." She was already searching for her clothes. They'd made it to Carlos' bedroom, which had the same view as the sitting room. Sunlight was streaming in through the window and in the light of day, the city was almost hidden under a haze of smog.

"It's me. Where are you?" His voice brought her back to earth and she sat down on the edge of the bed. She could hear the worry in his voice and imagined him outside her apartment. Carlos rested a hand on her thigh.

"I'm… Out." She knew Booth wouldn't approve of her association with Carlos. She wasn't sure she approved of it, but she needed it.

"Are you at the lab?"

"No. Did you need something?"

"Just wanted to get your help on my notes… With the case." In three words Booth managed to bring her back to earth.

"I'll be home in twenty minutes." She pressed the end button and put her phone aside. She couldn't ignore reality forever and she knew Cam was getting out of the hospital that afternoon. She assumed Booth wanted to be there to take her home.

"The man you work with?" Carlos said. Brennan nodded and pulled her jeans on.

"We need to fill out some case notes." He nodded, stretched as he sat up.

"I'll take you home."

xXx xXx xXx

One of Carlos' men brought a car around to the driveway and Temperance climbed in. It was a leather interior inside, and smelt new.

"Nice car." She commented. She knew Booth would appreciate it.

"It was on sale." He said and Temperance shook her head.

"I don't want to know." They shared a smile as Carlos floored his way through an intersection. For her sixteenth birthday, Carlos had managed to lift a bottle of perfume; until the police found his face on a security camera. She'd asked him how he'd managed to afford something like that and he'd told her it was on sale before they came to take him away in handcuffs. He wasn't a serial offender and had been back in the home after three weeks of juvvie. Temperance had worn the perfume every day for the three weeks.

"Why do you let me do this? Just show up when I need to." Temperance asked, looking across the to driver's side. She knew if Angela had heard her ask anything like that, she would have wondered who had replaced her friend. But Carlos had seen her as a scared fifteen year old. She had nothing to hide from him, no emotion that he hadn't seen.

"Do you still feel sad?" He asked. She shook her head and he nodded.

"That's why." Smiling, she leant her head back on the headrest.

"Thank you." She said softly. He put one of his hands down on hers.

"That's what friends are for." She nodded, looking out the window. Some days she'd say Booth was her closest friend. But last night, when they'd both needed someone to talk to, he'd left her sitting alone.


	2. Chapter 2

"Who was that?" Booth nodded over her shoulder and Brennan turned to look at the retreating car. Tinted windows made it impossible to see the driver but she imagined Carlos inside, smiled. Within seconds the entire vehicle was out of sight. She sighed, turning back to Booth and shook her head.

"Just a friend." He stepped away from his slouched stance against his car and followed her up the stairs.

"Were they the clothes you were in last night?"

"Since when do you take such an interest in my clothes?" She'd taken off her jacket and it was slung across her arm. She would've showered at Carlos' but Booth had called.

"Since you get dropped off outside your house by a mysterious vehicle wearing the same clothes I left you in." Brennan got the key in her door but turned to Booth before she opened it.

"And that is your business, how exactly?"

"I just…" He trailed off and she shut the door behind them.

"I have to shower." Brennan dropped her jacket on the couch and stalked towards the bedroom. Pulling clothes out haphazardly, she wondered how he'd manage to make her good mood evaporate so quickly. Usually Booth was the one who made her feel better when no one else could. Instead, he'd just made her feel like she needed to defend herself.

Shutting the bathroom door and throwing her clothes onto the floor as she undressed quickly, Brennan got under the steaming water and rubbed shampoo into her hair. She felt like going back to Carlos' house, where nothing outside him and her and the view existed.

"Bones!" She heard the bathroom door open and thrust her head under the water to wash the shampoo out.

"What?" She called. His next words were muffled by the water streaming over her ears so she opened the shower door slightly and looked out. He had her phone in his hand and an incensed look on his face.

"Do you want to tell me why _Carlos Manos_, a man permanently on the FBI's watch list just dropped your cell phone off? Actually do you want to tell me why he knows where you live or why he even has your cell in the first place?" Brennan opened her mouth and closed it again. She must've left her phone in his car.

"I…"

"You want to live on the wild side, get a tattoo, okay? Don't go out picking up random men who run their own mafia organisations. And don't tell them where you live."

Brennan's mouth opened in outrage as she ignored the running shower and her own nakedness. She couldn't argue properly around a fogged glass screen.

"Don't you dare insinuate that I would just go and casually pick someone up from a bar. Or that sleeping with him was just me trying to fill some anthropological urge to feel more alive by living dangerously." She'd moved closer to Booth as her voice became louder. She couldn't believe how belittled he'd just made her feel because his alpha male sensibilities were piqued.

"Besides, who I sleep with is none of your business!" He was trying to hand her a towel and she could see his eyes dipping towards her chest. He'd been around before when she was disrobing to get into a decontamination shower but she sensed this was different; the anger that was mounting between them incensed the air as effectively as the aroma of her rose scented shampoo.

"It is when you choose bed partners like that. Do you even know who he is in the underworld? How many people he's killed?" She took the towel and wrapped it around herself.

"Carlos is… He's an old friend, okay?" She saw disbelief enter Booth's eyes and shook her head.

"You don't understand."

"And this guy does?" She pushed a hand through her wet hair and took a step back. She thought it might have been better the morning after; they would both have had time to put some distance between the Epps episode. She'd been wrong. She should have stayed at Carlos' longer, foregone reality for as long as she could.

"You should probably go pick Cam up at the hospital." Brennan reached behind her to widen the opening to the shower.

"Temperance…" She crossed her arms around herself, feeling vulnerable. Sometimes he would come up with the most perfect words, would make her feel as if no one else understood her in the way he did. And sometimes he made her feel like she was nothing to him, like the distance between them would remain ever widening.

"Don't, Booth. Just… Don't." She'd readied herself for a fight but felt herself already defeated. Or already won. Either way, the outcome was the same.

xXx xXx xXx

Booth tried not to slam Bones' door behind him but he couldn't help it. Sometimes the woman made him want to grab her and shake her until she got off her stubborn high horse and back to reality. _Carlos Manos_. He couldn't believe it. How would Bones; straight laced and occasionally zealous in her effort to search for the truth to get the justice… How would she have even met Carlos? And why would she have kept in touch with him if she knew what kind of a man he was? Too surprised at the time to have done anything but accept Bones' phone from him, Booth berated himself for not taking a shot at the guy's face. Even a small right jab to the ribs would've made him feel better.

"Goddamnit, Bones." Booth felt himself mutter under his breath as he climbed into his car. An enigma she was. He'd spent last night at a casino, drinking beer and watching people drag themselves further down in debt. Usually, after an event like Epps, he'd spend the night with Bones eating Wong Foos and talking about justice and history and anything else her alarmingly overstuffed mind would alight on. But he'd chosen to confront his weakness, another hobby for the nights. Sometimes he needed to feel like he was winning in the game of life and putting his money towards Parker's college fund rather than onto the craps table generally convinced him. The sound of dreams being filled as slot machines paid up took his mind off Epps' last words, anyway. And until he'd seen Bones arrive home in some guy's car wearing the same thing she'd been wearing the night before, he'd felt upbeat. Now he felt like he'd taken as step back into the depression of last night.

xXx xXx xXx

Brennan lay awake in bed. She knew she should be tired; it's not like she'd gotten much sleep Friday night. Saturday night had been sleepless because of the same thoughts she was having now.

Changing position for the fifteenth time, she slid a hand under her pillow and sighed. She knew Carlos was something she needed to keep to herself but she hadn't expected Booth to get as mad as he did. He knew she slept with other men, knew she'd had boyfriends in the past. It must be Carlos' current job description he was concerned with, because she didn't remember him getting as worked up in the past. Then again, he'd never warmed to David while Brennan had liked him. He'd been sweet and caring and didn't make her feel like she needed to give him more than sex and intelligent conversation. Why did she and David break up?

Brennan let out a grunt of frustration and turned her light on. Midnight introspectives, she did not do. It was more of an Angela thing. Midnight Wong Foos and irrational conversations with Booth, she did. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Brennan ran a hand through her hair. She may as well go to the lab and type up the report she'd need to give the investigators on Monday. Then, after that, she could work on some unidentified bones from storage.

Pulling clothes out of her cupboard, she wondered idly what Booth was doing and decided he'd be with Cam. Besides, the way things were between them at the moment she didn't expect a knock on the door and chinese food.

xXx xXx xXx

Booth kicked off the sheet and looked at the dark ceiling. He couldn't sleep. It was the same problem he'd had last night; every time he closed his eyes he was assaulted by images; Bones arriving home in the black SUV, Manos dropping her phone off and looking so comfortable doing it and Bones arguing with him with water running off her wet hair in rivulets, across her breasts and down that tantalisingly smooth stomach…

Groaning and rolling onto his side, Booth punched his pillow. There'd been moments when she'd had to get in the decontamination showers that he'd caught sight of a length of thigh or a bare shoulder but nothing in the mood of what he'd seen today. And nothing that'd made him feel this way before; sleepless and unable to unimagine the image. It was permanently seared, taunting him. It didn't help that, after his abrupt departure from Bones', he'd sat at Wong Foos and drank beer until Sid had brought him something to soak up the alcohol. By then it had been too late and he'd needed to call a taxi, forgetting completely about his promise to pick Cam up. When his phone vibrated in his pocket and he saw she was trying to call he'd put the phone back and tried to ignore the vibrations. As he was trying to ignore Bones' long legs right now; he knew she was tall, but not that she was all lean leg and creamy, perfectly shaped thigh. The blue lab coat wasn't cut to convey that.

Rolling back onto his back, Booth sighed and rubbed his forehead. Monday was going to be an interesting day.

xXx xXx xXx

She was asleep at her desk when he walked in. So far he'd managed to avoid Cam by ducking around a pillar and almost jogging into Bones' office. Why she had to have glass doors, he didn't know. And why hadn't she been woken up by one of the squints or Cam? He knew she and Angela liked to chat in the mornings before they both started work.

"Bones?" He said from the doorway before stepping further into the room. He cleared his throat, waited, cleared it more loudly. She sat up quickly, one hand pushing back the hair she'd slept on so it wasn't flattened against her neck.

"I'm awake."

"Guess you haven't found much time to sleep lately." As soon as he said the words and saw the flash of hurt through her eyes, followed closely by anger, he was sorry for the cheap shot. Bones was worth more than cheap shots; she deserved a well thought out argument but that was something he didn't have. His reasoning for being so pissed off at her latest bed partner was still something he was questioning, something he'd considered briefly during his sleepless night. Unfortunately, thinking of Brennan at all had brought the image of her, sans towel, into his mind, rendering sleep impossible so he chose not to dwell on it. Even this morning he wasn't sure whether it was because it was Manos, or because she'd been out with a man, someone he didn't know and could have no control over. He'd already looked at the files; Manos was untouchable. Until there was a big enough case to sink him and his organisation, the man was under a strict code of look but don't touch. And even then, don't look. Obviously Bones hadn't gotten that memo. Then again, as she liked to remind him, she wasn't FBI.

"Seeley!" Cam had spotted him; she was stalking towards the doorway.

He looked from one woman to the other. Cam was scary but she couldn't hold a card to Bones.

"Cam." He said weakly.

Bones was shrugging on her lab coat, preparing to ignore him. He'd been on the receiving end of her ice queen act more than once and he'd always vowed never to let himself end up there again.

"Bones, I'm sorry… I just meant… Working." He knew his apology was feeble but it was the best he could do at the moment. He hadn't gotten much sleep either, although it wasn't due to a scar faced mob boss. Bones didn't even look at him as she left the room and his eyes followed her until his line of vision collided with Cam.

"Her or me, Seeley."

"What?" His mind was still chasing Bones out of the room and it took a moment for Cam's words to sink in.

"I don't want to go all high school on you but there's your choice. I know I've asked you before but I thought things between us might have… Changed that." She took a step closer to him, touched his arm. He looked down at her hand, made a decision.

"I'm sorry, Cam. We… You got hurt because of me, and I can't… It's not professional." She stepped back to her original space and he could see her struggling to look impassive.

"I'm sorry…" Booth stepped to the doorway, next to her, alighted a hand on her shoulder. She nodded, not looking at him, and he left the room, looking for Bones.

xXx xXx xXx

"So how are you?" Angela was perched on a chair on the lab platform, hands folded primly on her knees. Brennan gave her a flicker of a look before her attention returned to the skeleton on the table. She'd started writing notes until almost falling asleep standing up. Having left it unfinished gave her something to concentrate on in her avoidance of Booth. She thought he might have apologised to her this morning but she should have known better than to go on hope. She should have gone on rationalisation; an alpha male will instinctively try to justify his decision and course of action to himself and those around him by means however irrational before admitting he is wrong. And Booth was certainly an alpha male. And his decision was obviously to treat her as if she'd done something worse than find comfort in the arms of an old friend.

"Fine, Ange. I couldn't sleep last night so I came in and typed up the report from Friday night-."

"That's what I'm talking about, sweetie. Friday night." Brennan paused in her perusal on the lower fibula but kept her eyes down. Angela hadn't heard Booth's opening line to her this morning, had no reason to know that her weekend had been spent doing washing, vacuuming her apartment and staying with an old friend who happened to be tied to some shady organisations.

"It was an accident. Booth couldn't hold on to him… It's just the job, Ange." She sensed Angela stand up behind her and turned around.

"It's not 'just a job', Bren." Angela's hands made quotation marks in the air.

"A serial killer got into your house and tried to take you out with a tire iron before being dropped off your balcony. Most people don't have jobs like that. A tire iron, sweetie!" Brennan turned back to the skeleton. She'd found, since she'd seen Carlos, she hadn't really thought about the Epps episode, other than to write her report. Besides, Booth's sudden animosity was occupying her mind as well.

"Nothing happened to me. I figured out he'd be there and so did Booth. We both had our guns on him."

Angela stared at her best friend's back with incredulity. She couldn't believe Brennan was being so calm about it. Then again, that was Bren; calm to the point of other people stressing out for her. Like Angela, Friday night after she heard what had happened.

"But he was in your _apartment_. He got in. He was trying to kill you."

"But he didn't." Brennan straightened up, her hands on her hips. Angela shook her head.

"I hope you realise how hard it is being your friend sometimes. The worry threshold becomes hard to handle."

"For everyone around you. Hey, Booth." Hodgins extended Angela's sentence before greeting Booth, who was walking up the stairs. Angela threw Jack a withering glance before smiling at Booth. For one thing, he'd saved her best friend. For the other, since he'd saved her best friend, they might be closer. It was Angela's opinion that near death experiences brought people together. If Jack hadn't nearly died, she wasn't sure they'd be together now. Then again, he'd probably have found some other way to wear her down.

"Sorry, Bones-." Booth stopped at her examination table.

"Are you here for a case?" Cutting him off, Brennan moved to view the skeleton from the other side so her back was to Booth. Delicately, she reached out and nudged a phalange into place.

"I came in to tell you I've been pulled from duty for a psychological evaluation. Because of Friday." Angela waited for Brennan to protest.

"Okay." Her tone was cool, her eyes downcast, surveying the bones as a whole.

"There will be someone else you're working with; Tim Sullivan. He's a good guy." She merely nodded.

"Just keep tonight open, there might be a body." Booth shuffled his feet, waiting for a reply. He thought she might have reacted with more when he told her he'd been pulled. He sure as hell had; he'd yelled at Cullen. Which hadn't helped matters at all.

"What, you think I'll be out sleeping with gangsters?" Her hands went back to her hips and she finally looked up, anger shining in her eyes. Booth mentally kicked himself. He'd been trying hard not to say anything else to her lest this happen. Now, inadvertently, he'd put his foot in it again.

"What?" Hodgins looked up from his microscope, eyes wide. Zach dropped the pen he'd been holding and Angela leant on the free lab table and bit her lip.

"Gangsters, sweetie?"

"Booth thinks I'm on some kind of adrenaline trip that involves whoring myself out to mafia men." She'd dismissed him as she said the words and he felt his mouth drop. He wondered if that was what she really thought and decided it was; Bones wasn't the type of person to make lies up just to hurt the other person. She'd say what she meant. He didn't want to argue, but he couldn't walk away from that. Besides, he had her safety in mind.

"Mob boss, Bones. He's a goddamn mob boss. He has more assassins on his payroll than the CIA."

"Don't you tell me about him!" She advanced towards him, skeleton dismissed. He waited for the loud words to follow but her next words were soft, hitting home harder.

"You know nothing about him. And he knows more about me than you ever will." Her final words were punctuated by her gloves being thrown in the bin. She gave him one last, withering glance before stalking off to her office. Booth balled his hands into fists and layered curses at himself in his head.

"Booth-." Angela started to talk but Booth held up a hand. He didn't need any more chances to trip himself up.

"Ask her, Angela. I'm done with it." Turning he walked away from the platform. From what he'd been told by a superior this morning, he wasn't going to be working with Bones until his evaluation was complete. And with the way he was feeling at the moment, he wasn't sure how long it would take to prove himself duty worthy.

xXx xXx xXx

_A jealous Booth and some naked arguing (one sided, sadly). I've had a Citizen Cope revival so I've been listening to him non-stop for a while now. This fic was written largely to the tune 'Bullet and a Target' by him which is an amazing song – if you haven't heard it, seek it out. Reviews coveted!_


	3. Chapter 3

"So, you ready to tell me why you and Booth, despite the fact that he saved your life on Friday night, are so angry at each other? Or who this mysterious mob boss is?" Angela found Brennan typing on her laptop, slender fingers hitting the keys with barely concealed irritation. She spoke without looking away from the keys.

"Booth didn't save me. I knew Epps would be coming after me because of the plaster dust and drew my gun on him before Booth even walked into my apartment. I hate that he thinks I'm some damsel in a dress that he has to save."

"Damsel in distress, sweetie. And we all know you're more than capable of taking care of yourself. But it can't hurt to have an FBI agent around to help you out. Especially one like Booth." Brennan failed to respond and Angela sighed, sat herself in a spare visitor's chair.

"Joking aside, should I have a reason to be worried? I mean, is Booth overreacting? Because this guy he's talking about…"

"He's…" Finally, Brennan stopped typing and turned to Ang. She half shrugged and folded her hands on the desk between them, lowered her eyes.

"He doesn't have the most judicial job position. But he would never hurt me."

"So how long have you known this guy?" Angela was, as always, fascinated with Brennan's secrets. She had so many, such a long and multi-layered history behind her that she spoke of so seldom.

"Feels like forever." Brennan allowed herself a small smile, failing to see Angela's look of amazement. Bren was not the kind of person who used sappy sentiments; usually she didn't use any kind of sentiment at all.

"I met him when I was fifteen. Bad foster house." Brennan's eyes flicked up to meet Angela's, the blue paler than usual.

"He…" Brennan took a deep breath and Angela knew there was an internal struggle going on; because she held her secrets so tightly, it was always so hard for her to let them out.

"Our foster father tried to rape me, and Carlos stopped him. A little while after that we both got kicked out to the same group home and we just… He was my lifeline in that place."

"Oh, sweetie…" Angela leant a hand across the table and placed it on Brennan's.

"So are you guys dating now? I mean, obviously Booth thinks-."

"Carlos drove me home Saturday morning Booth was outside waiting and he noticed I was wearing the same clothes." A sheepish shrug and she continued.

"I left my phone in his car… He came back to give it to me. Booth answered the door because I was in the shower…"

"And Booth recognised him from some FBI picture and got upset."

"It was a little more than upset, Ange." Angela looked at Brennan and sighed.

"If it's any consolation, he probably is trying to protect you. He doesn't know you and Carlos have more of a history than Friday night. How would you feel if he was dating someone you knew to be dangerous?"

"But Carlos isn't."

"I didn't say he was. But his picture isn't in an FBI database somewhere for no reason." Brennan sighed and nodded slightly.

"Do you think I should tell him?"

"You should stop announcing yourself as a whore in the middle of the lab." Angela smiled as Brennan did and stood, smoothing her skirt.

"You have to decide whether you tell Booth. But you should talk to him about his reassignment. Unassignment. Whatever. He's going to need a friend at the moment."

xXx xXx xXx

"Dr. Brennan." She nodded at the agent in front of her.

"I'm Agent Sullivan. Sully."

"Where's the body?"

"By the shore, most of it. The rest could be heading to the North Atlantic by now." Sully followed her to the edge of the river. The water lapped at a skull, making it shine dim yellow in the noon light. Brennan knelt down and carefully dug around it until she could pick it up.

"The skull features indicate a male."

"Any ideas on cause of death?"

"There appears to be two bullet holes in the top of the skull. Fired from a close range judging by the outward shattering around the holes." Brennan put the skull in an evidence box and started extracting more of the bones.

"I'll know more when I get all the bones out and back to the lab."

xXx xXx xXx

"We're missing most of it. But the gunshots on the skull would have been fatal. One penetrated straight through the coronal suture and came out the mental tuberosity." Zach stood over the partial skeleton. Brennan snapped on her gloves as she and Sully entered the platform area.

"The bullet came out of his chin? Doesn't leave much hope for the brain." Sully nodded and turned away as his cell rang, offering an apologetic glance.

"I thought we were getting a replacement for Booth." Zach leant over the table towards Brennan, his voice lowered.

"We did. He is." She said.

"But he actually knows things." Zach looked meaningfully at Brennan before he leant back as Sully returned to the table.

"The field guys have finished sifting the river. No bullet recovered."

"Anything else, Zach?" Brennan picked up a fibula and ran her eyes along the length of it.

"No apparent pre-mortem marks, other than the gunshot wound."

"No breaks we can use for identification?" Brennan put the fibula back in its place and leant over the bones, her eyes intent.

"Nothing yet."

"What angle were the gunshots at?"

"Fifteen years." Hodgins interrupted as he swiped his card.

"82 degrees." Zach continued, bringing up an image of the skull.

"The bones have been in the water for slightly under fifteen years. Add to that the time they've been covered in flesh and it becomes fifteen years. Also, the scraping I took from the bones had a high level of lead. I isolated it to one that was banned thirteen years ago because it was causing lead poisoning. Levels indicated long exposure prior to this." Hodgins looked pleased with himself.

"He lived in a house that has lead paint?" Sully asked.

"No, it wouldn't account for that much. He had to have a closer exposure than that."

"He was a painter." Brennan said. Hodgins nodded.

"82 degrees… The victim would have been kneeling, head tilted slightly down while the killer stood over him. Classic execution." Sully adopted the killer's position.

"That only gives approximately 50 degrees. It was a much sharper angle than that." Zach calculated, pressing a button that zoomed in on the bullet holes on the screen.

"So, what, the killer's a giant? Because our victim isn't a midget." Hodgins looked over the bones on the table.

"He's gotta be 6 foot."

"5 foot 11." Zach corrected. Brennan picked up the skull and examined the bullet holes, her expression thoughtful. Angela walked into the lab, poised to speak. Hodgins gave her a quick look and shook his head. She stayed silent.

"He was lying down. Facedown. Zach, lie down." Obediently, Zach lay on the floor, his face turned sideways. Brennan knelt down beside him and grabbed him under the chin.

"The killer held his head up… Tilted it back so he could see his eyes while he shot him." She pretended to aim a gun at the back of Zach's head while maintaining eye contact. Zach nodded as soon as she let go was already talking as she helped him up.

"That would account for the angle. And the distance between the gun barrel and the skull which was abnormally close, even for an execution style killing."

"Okay, that is just nasty. I thought execution style was bad, but wanting to be that close while you shot someone?" Angela shivered visibly.

"It must've been personal." Sully said.

"Zach put on the skull markers, but because of the marks on the bones that could have happened while he was floating down the river, it's going to take a day to come up with a reconstruction. Cam also has a DNA check running to see if he's in any known databases – no results yet. But I did reverse engineer the bullet with the program you designed, Bren." Angela cleared the skull image Zack had brought up and clicked a few keys, making the bullet visible on the screen.

".357 magnum revolver." Sully said as he stepped closer to the screen.

"It's being run against the FBI database. Nothing yet."

"Ange, can you get the bone marks off Zach, see if you can plot his course through the waterway? And keep working on the reconstruction. Send through anything you get."

xXx xXx xXx

Booth opened his door to see Bones standing outside. She'd changed clothes since he'd seen her that morning and her hair was tied back in a messy bun, the little makeup she wore erased. For a moment, she made him feel old.

"Hey." He swung the door wider to allow her entrance, and she stepped past him.

"I didn't really talk to you. About your reassignment." Obviously she was just going to ignore their exchange in the lab. It was fine with him; he'd spent the afternoon sitting on his couch and wondering how he could've handled it better. He hadn't come to any kind of conclusion.

"More like an unassignment." Booth grumbled gingerly as he grabbed another beer out of his fridge. The silences between them were awkward now, and he tried to fill them quickly. It had only been a few days and already he missed the simpler quiet they could exist in. Bones reached out and took the beer he handed to her after popping the top off. Her fingers barely missed grazing his.

"I don't think that's a word. But Angela said that, too." She sat next to him on the couch, leaving enough space between them to let him know he wasn't forgiven.

"Hm." Again, he filled the silence, watching her as she drank. Her hands were pale around the bottle.

"I met Sully today. We have a case; a male with two bullet holes to the skull." Booth was surprised as her casual reference of Sully, decided they must be getting along. Irrationally, jealousy flared. She was his partner and he didn't like the idea of her working with anyone else. At least that's what he told himself, but the image of her arguing with him inside her rose-scented bathroom still came to mind every night before he went to sleep.

"Any suspects yet?" She shook her head.

"I just finished the initial exam tonight and gave Sully the results. He's going to call me if he finds anything." She fell silent again, as if talking that much had exhausted her. Single-handedly, Booth had managed to quieten the woman who would talk while chasing a suspect, if the conversation hadn't finished when the pursuit started.

"I'm sorry, Bones." Booth's tone was as gentle as his words. He needed her back, needed things to be the way they were between them before. He wouldn't lose her over a fallen serial killer and a mob boss.

He waited while she absorbed them, weighed the sentiment behind them. Then she simply nodded. But it didn't remove the elephant in the room.

"Okay." Her words to him, he knew, would never be erased. She rarely spoke without thinking about it first but most people didn't realise it because her brain worked far quicker than anyone else's he knew. The words she'd told him still hurt and he'd alternated thinking about how he could've avoided hurting her and considering how much this guy meant to her. And why. He'd been smug in the assumption that he was foremost in Bones' life but had been forced to abandon that after that conversation in her bathroom. And the convincing point that had come during the fight in the lab.

"So…" Both didn't know what they could move on to from here. Conversation was meant to be question and answer, have an easy kind of flow to it. This was turning into a trip to the dentist.

"Angela thought… Maybe I should tell you about Carlos. Well, not about him, but about him and I. I'm guessing the FBI had enough info on him, and that you've looked at it…" Booth nodded sheepishly. As usual, she'd surprised him with a rare perceptiveness. She did that sometimes; appeared impervious to everything and suddenly arrived at a conclusion that would have required inductive thoughtfulness.

"I did check up." He didn't want to upset her again but couldn't help but continue. He wondered if she knew how dangerous he was. From her words, she'd known him for longer than a one night stand. He'd always thought that Bones wasn't the kind to open up to people after a brief tryst. Then again, Booth wouldn't have guessed she would be sleeping with a man who effortlessly ran illegal smuggling operations through America.

"He's in the organisation deep enough to be untouchable."

"I know." Bones took another long swallow from her beer bottle before fiddling with the label, using the bottle's condensation to start peeling it slowly from the glossy glass. "I know who he is, Booth."

"And you're still…? But he's-."

"I know." She cut him off and took a deep breath as her attention went from the half removed label to him.

"Just listen, okay?" She'd already compelled him into silence with the clear colour of her eyes that had pierced his and now held them into place, but her words made him stop fidgeting with his own beer.

"I've known Carlos since I was fifteen. We were in the same foster house; it wasn't… It wasn't a nice place to live." Her eyes teared briefly and Booth half reached for her hand before pulling back. He hadn't redeemed himself, and he didn't deserve to comfort her yet.

"He saved me from something bad… My foster father…" Then her eyes were overflowing, deep blue washing out to something paler, something a little more broken. This time Booth didn't hold back. He pulled her into a hug, feeling the familiar curves that he could now imagine in his mind, dripping with water. She relaxed into him and he considered himself closer to forgiven.

"Shhh. I understand. You're okay." And Booth understood that she was okay only because Carlos had been there. The part of his imagination that had been envisioning bloodying Manos' nose as he stood outside Bones' door returning her phone receded slightly.

"I know who he is now, Booth, but he's also the one who saved me from being another street kid." Booth pulled away from her slightly so he could look at her eyes.

"You would never have been a street kid, Bones. You were always too good for that." She shook her head, sniffing.

"You don't know how easy it would have been, to give up." And he didn't. This was one area where he could never match Bones in experience. His grandfather was an accountant and his father... While his father hadn't been anyone to write home about, he hadn't left Booth and his younger brother to fend for themselves. His upbringing had never included carrying his clothes around in a garbage bag or fending off paedophile foster fathers.

"Carlos rescued me, Booth. He's the reason I made it this far-."

"No, you're the reason you made it. He made sure you got out of the foster system okay. But you did the rest. Don't feel you need to give him more than you owe." Booth propped a finger under her chin in the same way he had when he'd expanded her family to include him. Her eyes stayed with his, the blue darkening once more. The feeling was the same as when they were in the bathroom together, but this time it was at his apartment and the air didn't carry the heavy scent of Bones' shampoo.

Suddenly her cell rang, piercing the silence with startling clarity. Her head jerked from his fingertips as she answered.

"Okay. I can be there in ten minutes." She ended the call and put the phone back in her pocket. He was reluctant to ask who had been on the phone; no doubt she'd misconstrue his genuine interest as another jab at her association with Manos.

"Sully. The bullet from an old case matches the reverse engineered image of the bullet from the body. He just wants me to confirm." She stood, put her half finished beer on the table next to Booth's. Some of her hair had sprung loose and she tucked it carefully back behind her ear.

"Well, I guess…" The awkwardness settled back into place, less so but still there, just under the surface. Booth stood as he spoke, put his hands on his hips.

"I'd better go." Bones gave him a sad half smile and he returned it before following her to the door.

"See you." She let herself out and he leant in the doorway, watching her walk to the stairs.

"Yeah." Booth said, too quietly for her to hear him.

xXx xXx xXx

"You found a match?" She stood hesitantly at his doorway until he motioned her in. Her hair was falling out of its restraint, shadow from it playing across her face. A lack of mascara on her eyes didn't make them stand out any less. He'd noticed it straight away by the river bank but out of overalls or a lab coat she was unsettlingly attractive. Sully wondered where she'd been when he called. He cleared his throat, started talking.

"Eight years ago a man was shot, same gun. Here, have a meatball sub. Best thing you'll ever eat. Necessary for survival, especially if this lead proves promising and we have to stay awake arresting the bad guys."

"I'm not hungry." She moved the food aside and slipped the file across the desk so she could look at it. She held up both images of the bullets and tilted them towards the light.

"It's a match." Sully looked down at his meatball sub and bit in with relish. He'd thought as much, but wanted her to sign off on it before he started putting together an arrest. Because this arrest would be big.

He heard her breath catch in her throat and looked up from his sub.

"Why... Why is this your suspect?"

"Almost convicted for a murder with the same weapon eight years ago. Couldn't get the DA to prosecute this guy without an air tight case; which was compromised because of the evidence collection methods."

"The gun could've changed owners… Couldn't it?" Her eyes met his, slightly desperate. Sully frowned.

"Theoretically, yes, but since the MO is the same it seems unlikely-."

"They never managed to prosecute, though. He may not have done it." Sully pointed his sub at the file, shaking his head.

"The detective on the case picked up the shell casing without gloves on. Defence would have argued it was placed there to frame the client. And the kind of defence he had... Well, it would've ripped the case to shreds. DA decided a trial wasn't worth the cost, especially because the victim was a crack dealer. Fairly high up, but still a dealer. But there was no doubt in anyone's mind he was the doer."

"The body, the crack dealer. Is it still in evidence?" Sully shook his head, swallowing before he answered.

"No, family buried it."

"You need to get a judge to sign an order of exhumation. We can reverse engineer the bullet hole in the skull and compare that to the hole in our current victim's skull."

"What?" Sully put his sub down, momentarily forgotten. She wanted him to dig up another body?

"The casing was the problem in the first case. If we build evidence that excludes that," she took a deep breath, "then we'll build a stronger case now." She closed the file and stood. She did have a point, but it had been a turnaround; she sounded as if she didn't believe the outcome of the first case and now she was trying to make it stronger.

"I have to go to the lab. You'll call me if you get the exhumation order in the morning?" Sully nodded slowly, looking at her with confusion.

"You don't... Do you know the suspect?" She had crossed the room towards the door and her back was to him. He saw her shoulders hunch slightly before her head shook.

"I'll see you in the morning." Sully saw her shadow move down the hallway until it was gone completely. He leant back on the table and heard a squish. Sighing, he rolled his eyes as he lifted his hand out of his meatball sub.

xXx xXx xXx

_Yes, Sully makes an appearance. But Brennan is NOT going to get it on with him, unlike in the show. I want Booth jealous, not postal. _

_Any guesses on the suspect yet? Anyone figured it out? Give yourself a chocolate-covered Booth (or Carlos - personally I'm going for the hot, scarred, underworld-scary guy) if you have. Reviews much loved!_


	4. Chapter 4

_Yes, I'm finally continuing with this story. For those of you who've started re-reading from Chapter One, skip this. For everyone else who can vaguely remember what happened, here's a refresher;_

_Started with Howard Epps falling from Booth's grasp. He exchanged angry words with Brennan then left so she went to her old friend/lover/saviour Carlos (fostered out together, he stopped her foster father raping her when she was fifteen, then they went to the same group home). She arrived home to her apartment – and to a waiting Booth - the next morning wearing the same clothes which he noticed. Who says men don't notice what you're wearing? Carlos dropped her phone back, Booth recognised him from the FBI's most wanted, yadda yadda._

_They had an argument (Brennan naked, Booth fully clothed, just to let you know) that continued in the lab where Booth told Brennan he was off duty for a while because of Epps' death and that she'd be working with Sully. They don't part on the best terms. Brennan explains her relationship to Carlos to Angela, goes to see some bones with Sully, then goes to explain Carlos to Booth._

_Sully calls with a bullet match and Brennan goes to see him. She suggests they dig up the body the other bullet was from to make sure it's a match so the case is stronger since the D.A. declined to prosecute previously (blame that on a muppet cop who forgot to put gloves on. The moral is glove up!). _

_And that brings us to here, late at night, Brennan (what else) at the lab working and Sully trying to get an order of exhumation to dig up the other body. Damn, how did that take three chapters to write? I could've cut out the adjectives and ended up with this..._

Sully had emailed the results directly to her at the Jeffersonian. Brennan pulled them up on the screens in the lab, every keystroke loud in the silent room. She knew the computer programme had calculated the bullets to be a match but she wanted to examine them herself, to be certain. Even if they were a match, they might have been fired by different people. There was always the chance he didn't do it.

"Brennan." Her phone rang as she was rubbing her eyes. She'd stared for almost two hours, trying to find a difference, but it was futile. The bullets were exact enough to have been fired from the same gun; every nuance didn't line up but that was to be expected if there were two years between the bullets being discharged into the victims. She knew the gun may not have been used by the same person, but she thought it had been. She knew what Booth meant now by a gut feeling.

"It's Sully. I've called the DA, told him his case might be able to roll along on your suggestion. He's woken a judge, and I've woken a backhoe operator."

"What?"

"We're heading to the cemetery now, to dig up Leon Guevarro. We'll have him to you just before midnight."

"Who?" She hadn't looked at the name when she'd briefly looked at the file earlier, only absorbed the bullet information, the name of the suspect.

"Leon Guevarro. The crack dealer. His brother was the one that went to jail for killing the kids ... Temperance?" She'd let the silence stretch out before Sully snapped it, brought her back to earth. Casey Guevarro was a man she had put behind bars because of her examination and court testimony on a series of bones found at Jamaica Bay while she was doing a summer residency in Manhattan. His brother, Leon Guevarro, had threatened her outside the courtroom, told her he would hunt her down and kill her.

"I'll come to you. Where is he buried?"

Sully named the local necropolis and Brennan flipped her phone shut and grabbed her jacket.

xXx xXx xXx

Brennan sped towards the cemetery. It wasn't far away and at this time of night the road was almost all hers. She wound her window down during the brief drive and let the night air run its fingers through her hair, hoped the bracing wind would stop the queasy feeling in her stomach. She could feel the net tightening; she did this for a living, she was the one pulling it tighter.

"We're nearly to the coffin. He was buried in winter so it isn't down as far as it should be." Sully walked her over to the widening hole in the ground, the light from the backhoe painting his face a garish orange every time it completed a revolution. She remembered, outside the courthouse, she had been in a dark orange coat and a purple scarf when Guevarro had leant close to her, breath steaming, and told her he was going to slit her throat.

"I'll examine the body in situ first and note my observations before it goes back to the lab. I can complete an examination tonight and have the results to you in the morning." Sully tried to hold her shoulder to help her into the freshly dug pit surrounding the coffin. She shook him off and joined the two deputies who were currently working at the lid with a crowbar. With a creak it broke free from the seal and fell to the side.

Brennan carefully cleared the dirt away from around the skull. While the bones would have been thoroughly cleaned, and particulates taken by the forensic examiner twelve years ago, she made sure anything she brushed off landed safely inside the coffin. Impatient to get to the angle and size of the bullet hole, she dusted quickly.

"Diameter of the entry wound at the top of the skull is consistent with a .357." Sully was hovering at the top of the hole and he nodded, wrote a note.

"The angle?"

"I'd prefer to measure it with lasers at the lab, but it does look consistent with the degree of the previous body." Brennan stood, said the words she had hoped wouldn't be true.

"Even from a cursory examination, it is extremely likely that this MO will match the previous body."

"Great." Sully turned to call at the other deputies and lab assistants who were waiting for Brennan to finish. "Guys, let's get the body back to the lab."

"I'll meet them there." Brennan pulled her gloves off and put them into her kit. She wanted to arrive before the body. She had some research to do.

xXx xXx xXx

Back at the lab, all was quiet. No one was due at work for another seven hours at least. Night security was wandering around, routinely checking things, but other than that she was all alone. Guevarro's body was yet to be delivered.

Accessing the national database the FBI had grudgingly allowed them permission to use, Brennen keyed in a name she hadn't thought of in ten years – until recent events had dredged up the memories.

Roy Jeffries had disappeared ten years ago. A missing person report had been filed by his wife, but nothing had been turned up. He had been driving home from a painting job when he had disappeared. His painting van had been found halfway across the city, off his usual route. No fingerprints were found in the van, no witnesses came forward, no signs of a struggle were apparent. He had simply vanished. Until, ten years later, when he was found by an unassuming fisherman who reeled in a bone along with the fish he was trying to catch.

Brennan downloaded the dental records and sent them to Angela to compare in the morning although this was merely a formality. She knew already the body she had on the table was Roy Jeffries.

Noises from the lab area made Brennan turn the screen of her computer off and walk out. The FBI had arrived with the exhumed body. Instructing them to lay it out on one of the stainless steel tables and leave the coffin for Hodgins, Brennan waited until they had left before carefully taking the skull to examine. This, too, was a formality. She knew the angle would match closely, that the method of death was the same. It was a signature kill, perpetrated by a man who had, she knew, believed he was doing the right thing.

xXx xXx xXx

Somehow, Angela was the first to arrive at the lab the next morning. She checked her inter-mail, noted the request to compare the attached dental records to the latest body.

"3.10am? There are far better things to do at 3.10am, sweetie." Angela muttered under her breath as she started the comparison software running. It was strange Dr Brennan wasn't in the office now – even if she'd only just gone home at 5am, Bren would still be the first one in that morning. But her office was dark, the computer off, not a forensic anthropologist in sight.

"Have you seen Dr Brennan this morning?" Cam asked as she walked in. Angela shook her head, otherwise occupied; her attention on the latest online shoe catalogue that had landed in her inbox overnight as well.

"She was here earlier though – I got a request to match some dental records to the new victim at three am."

"There's a new skeleton on the table as well. That's what I wanted to see her about."

"You might want to see me about that." Sully stood in the doorway, looking slightly wired, as if he'd had too much coffee. His hair had been the victim of his hands running through it too many times.

"Agent Sullivan, Sully. I'm here until Booth is back." Angela turned, raised an eyebrow. She hadn't really looked at him yesterday. He was a little short but otherwise he wasn't bad looking. There could be potential for Brennan there, if she decided to get into a relationship that didn't involve mob boss mafia men who saved her life.

"That skeleton is yours?" Cam asked, her arms crossed. She didn't like Dr Brennan's habit of surprising her with new bodies, or new FBI agents.

"It's related to the current case you're working on. We've got a suspect but need the case to be as rock solid as possible. Temperance suggested we dig up a body that matched the previous MO to tie the gun and victims together, which was an idea the D.A. is definitely going to love her for. She emailed me through the laser testing she did last night – the angle and trajectory of the wounds match. Now we just need to put together the identity of the current victim that was found in the water, give the D.A. a convincing motive and our careers will be made." He frowned. "Much as I like what this will do for me, I feel bad it wasn't Booth that caught this case."

"What do you mean our careers will be made?" Cam asked.

"Suspect walked on a previous murder thanks to a reluctant D.A. and a detective who forgot to glove up. Now he's so high up in... Well, no one's sure exactly what, he's so diverse in his operations. We do know he's running a lot of operations with guns, drugs, possibly people... Let's just say he's high on the FBI's to-do list. I made some calls overnight, letting my superiors know how the case is going. I've got as many team members as I need to take him out and they can be ready within an hour."

"We've got part one of your plan." Angela reported as the computer blinked a success message to her.

"The dental records Dr Brennan sent to you?" Cam asked.

"Yes. Roy Jeffries, semi-retired painter. Reported missing ten years ago. Brennan sent through everything she found on him. I've emailed it to you." Angela said to Sully. He nodded as his phone beeped from his pocket.

"Thanks."

"Did you get a DNA match, Cam? Where did Bren get the information on the victim?" Cam shook her head.

"I thought it would take longer than this, thought it would rely on your reconstruction because DNA came up with nothing. He wasn't in the national database."

"Where is Temperance? She said she'd meet me here this morning. I've called her a few times but she's not answering." Sully checked his phone again but it had only Angela's email waiting for him.

"I haven't heard from her since yesterday." Cam said.

"We exhumed the body at about midnight, then she came back here to check it. She got back to me around 4am, letting me know the killer was the same – gun, angle and bullet hole match. It's too coincidental to be anyone different. Unfortunately there were no witnesses so we need to tie the perp to the victim before the D.A. will move on this. They've been burned before."

Angela had been reading through the case notes on Roy Jeffries and she paused at a block of text that had been highlighted by Brennan before she'd sent it through. She read it out to Cam and Sully.

"While not convicted of sexual assault, Roy Jeffries was blacklisted by the Child Protection Agency of America after six female foster children complained of sexual abuse. His wife stood as his witness in a pretrial hearing but conviction was impossible after all six females were lost from the system shortly after their eighteenth birthdays."

"So he wasn't the nicest guy," Sully said as an understatement. Angela paused, remembering what Brennan had told her yesterday. It couldn't be...

"Sully, what was the name of the suspect?"

"Carlos. Carlos Manos. Why, do you know him?" Sully asked. He'd been asking that question too much lately.

"No but... I think Brennan might."

"What?" said Cam and Sully simultaneously.

"I think that's how Roy Jeffries and Carlos Manos are linked – through Bren." Angela said grimly.

"The D.A. is going to _love_ this." Sully said. "Tell me what you know." Angela looked uncomfortable.

"It was something I don't think she'd want everyone knowing-"

"I think she'd want us to catch him, Angela. She highlighted that passage and sent you the dental information to confirm. She knew you'd put it together." What Cam said made sense but Angela still didn't like it. Reluctantly, she told them what she knew.

"She was in a foster home, presumably with Roy Jeffries. She told me she had a foster father who tried to rape her. Carlos was in the same foster house and stopped it happening. They were moved to the same group home and I assume they've kept in touch since Booth said she... She spent the night with him on Friday."

Zach wandered into their shocked silence, oblivious.

"Cam? I've finished checking the bullet hole on the new skeleton like Dr Brennan requested but she isn't around to hear my results. They're a match – body weight, gun and body positioning of the shooter were the same in both victims."

"She requested you do that?" Cam asked. Zach nodded. Cam shook her head. "She's a step ahead – she's already removed herself from the case."

"What, sending me the information, and getting Zach to double check the results she got?" Angela asked. Cam nodded.

"I just don't know why she would do that. Dr Brennan can compartmentalise better than anyone I know. And she believes in justice."

"She... I think this is something more important to her." Angela looked worried. It was in everyone's thoughts – where was she now?

"We can't risk her getting to him before we do. I'm putting out an APB on her car and getting the team together. We've got to move on this now." Sully voice was controlled anger as he left the office, his phone already out. Angela was picking up her own cell and speed dialling a familiar number.

"Booth, it's Angela. I know you're not meant to be working right now, but I think Brennan needs your help."

xXx xXx xXx

_The suspense! Hope you're enjoying it so far. Thanks for reading – and please let me know what you think of Carlos? Good guy? Bad guy? Do you love him or hate him?_


	5. Chapter 5

The only clouds in the sky hung low on the horizon, barely obscuring the azure blue. There was the hint of a breeze but otherwise all was still.

Brennan was running on adrenaline. She hadn't slept in over 24 hours and she knew she was over-tired and slightly hyped, the organic chemicals in her system letting her stay awake but not function completely.

She did know what she was doing was wrong, but it was also right. As right as Carlos thought he was when he was protecting her. That's why she had to protect him now; she owed him so much more than this but it was a start.

She accelerated around the last curve and pulled into Carlos' hidden driveway. The gates opened and she was allowed through, knowing he would have let whomever his gatekeepers were that her car should always be admitted. The front yard of his house was empty and quiet; the men who were keeping guard remained unseen.

Brennan left her car in front of the house and walked inside, her steps stilted. Where she had been in a rush now she was reluctant, too aware that what she was doing would hurt the career she had, would hurt Booth, wounding his ideals of justice and honour and his simple belief in the law. But, as she knew too well from identifying honour killing victims for whom the law held no right, only wrong, that laws were not made to fit every situation.

"Carlos?" Her voice echoed through the house. She'd felt settled last time she was here, at peace, surrounded by Carlos' presence. His house was never homely before, but now it felt more sterile, an interior designer's work of art; all angles, and light but no substance or personality. The view outside was too open, spoke of too many possibilities for other people while she was here, trying to settle a debt she'd had since a man she was meant to be able to trust entered her bedroom after midnight with unbuckled pants and beer on his breath. She no longer felt settled, only trapped by time and circumstances.

"Carlos?" She called out again, advancing towards the bedroom. Her team at the Jeffersonian was too good not to have followed her instructions and arrived at the same conclusion she had; and she knew Angela would recognise the name and find the notated paragraph she had sent through. Sully was due to meet her that morning and he'd probably already talked to Zach and Angela and come to his own conclusions; Carlos was guilty. And this time prosecution was possible.

She'd done all she could for them and she was now playing for the other side, bringing a warning she should not be delivering. For once she was hoping the bad guy, the man who had killed for her, would get away. Her father she'd helped after he was imprisoned, when justice had been given a chance to prevail. But Carlos could never be locked up. He had been fettered for most of his childhood and his freedom was something she knew he valued above everything else.

"Carlos!" A third call as she entered his bedroom. She knew the pounding of her heart in her chest was the beginnings of panic, of being unable to get to him before the FBI did, before cuffs were locked around his velvet chocolate wrists and he looked at her with betrayal in his eyes. She needed him to answer her.

"Temperance." Then he was behind her in the doorway, mouth serious, eyes softened by her presence, never questioning why she was there.

There was so much she needed to tell him about, to warn him about. She knew Sully would be gathering FBI momentum in the form of a SWAT team, an armed force ready and willing to take out another harbinger of crime. The words wouldn't come and she was speechless, wanting to drink in his existence in front of her before he would run, finally leaving her forever. He seemed to sense it, to know she needed a minute before the purpose of her visit was revealed and he took the few steps between them until their breaths intermingled and he could fold her into his arms.

She breathed deeply, inhaling, memorising his scent, the feel of his arms around her sides, his hands against her back, drawing her close to fill the space between them.

"I'm sorry," she whispered against his neck, needing to lay preliminary groundwork, let him know she wasn't blameless in bringing the FBI to his door.

"I know," his words were gravel, tipped straight to her soul, and she knew he was doing more than accepting her apology. Of course he knew they were coming; he had eyes and ears everywhere. Why hadn't she remembered that?

"Why..." A pause as she pulled back slightly, disentangling her upper body so she could look at him.

"Why haven't you left yet?" He ran a gentle hand along her cheekbone and down her neck, tracing the line his scar would take if their roles were reversed. His next words disregarded her question.

"I knew you'd come."

xXx xXx xXx

"Sully, it's Booth. Where are you?"

"Getting a team in place. We've already got the go ahead thanks to the work the Jeffersonian did. With the exception of-." Sully was cut off and he knew it was so Booth wouldn't have to hear him say her name, wouldn't have to be reminded of her betrayal.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I need in."

"What? Booth, you know-." Again, he cut Sully off midsentence.

"If she's there... Sully, there's a lot of history and she's..." Sully waited him out, let him talk despite the time that was ticking, the hustle around him of men filling a SWAT van, doing last weapons' checks, re-velcroing their vests.

"I know you're going in to get this guy. But if..." Again, he waited Booth out, climbing into the front seat of an SUV driven by another agent. Two more agents in the back were pulling the clips out of their handguns to check their ammunition.

"I can't let her get hurt." Booth's words surprised Sully, not because of the caring behind them but because he wouldn't have envisioned Temperance Brennan as anyone who 'let' anyone do anything for them. A look across at the agent driving them towards the address was what sealed it; Sully still felt guilty he'd caught this case instead of Booth.

"You can come. But you don't come in until it's secure and we've got him, or..." Sully let his words trail off and knew they were both imagining a dead criminal, and where Temperance would be left in that picture.

"But-." Booth started and this time Sully felt satisfied being able to cut him off.

"No, Booth. You're still an agent but you're officially on leave. A defence attorney would be able to make your presence a reason for him to walk." From Booth's silence, Sully knew that point had hit home.

"We're already on the way, you can meet us there." Sully gave him the address then hung up. He checked his own gun, knowing it was fully loaded but needing the extra reassurance. As much as Temperance trusted this guy, he didn't have the same feeling. And he would be doing everything he could to make sure Manos was brought in – with or without bodily harm.

xXx xXx xXx

Booth had received Angela's call, listened wordlessly to her in growing shock and horror before cutting her off so he could hang up and call Sully. He didn't want to believe she was at Manos' house right now, somewhere an FBI team would be storming within the hour. But he knew she would go to the ends of the earth for someone, if she believed they deserved it. And from their conversation late yesterday on his couch he could guess at the depth of her feelings for Carlos Manos.

He was in his car already when Sully answered and he thanked God and all the saints he could think of when Sully had finally relented and given him the address, telling him he could be there.

Pulling out of his building parking lot, Booth could see the irony; he'd been put on paid evaluation leave because he'd been trying not to let Bones get hurt. Now he was doing the same thing again. Cam had told him once that _the definition of stupidity was doing the same thing over again and expecting different results _– and that had been the catalyst for his first meeting with Bones. That was something he wouldn't change for anything. He couldn't imagine his life, now, without her in it.

But this was different. This wasn't a serial killer lying in wait with a tire iron. This was a man who had saved her innocence once, long ago. Surely he would save her again by making sure she was out of the way of the FBI when they came in, guns drawn...

Booth couldn't convince himself and he turned on the lights, needing to be where she was, needing to know she was safe. The man she'd known as a boy had grown up to have a very successful career smuggling anything illegal to anyone who wanted it. He wasn't the person she'd known all those years ago; and as incredibly gifted Bones was intellectually, her people reading skills weren't as evolved.

"God, Bones..." Booth let her name escape his lips as he swerved around another car, hoping he would be there in time. She'd lived through so much already, there was no way she was going to be taken down by the very people Booth had pledged to fight alongside; the FBI who, he knew, would shoot first and avoid answering questions later.

xXx xXx xXx

_Firstly, this fic is on hiatus for around three weeks. No, I'm not abandoning it again. I'll be in Sydney/Fiji sipping mojitos, sampling the night life and indulging my consumerist self by buying pretty things._

_Hopefully the first part of this chapter read true – Brennan's POV. I didn't mean to write so heavily but in case you haven't noticed I do love some adjectives. And I wanted to get through how incredibly important this person is in her life and how she doesn't take her decision to tell him the FBI are coming lightly; there is no question that she will do it but it's going to hurt Booth because she's deliberately going against the ideals he lives his life by. And she recognises that, somehow, despite her general ineptness at inter-personal relationships. I think she knows way more than she lets on..._

_**Important: **__The next chapter is actually going to be two chapters. One is a happy ending, the other is not so happy – kind of like a choose-your-own-adventure. Read the according one depending on your mood and how you were hoping this fic would end. I've had these two ideas kicking around and I just couldn't make a decision at all so I decided to write them both out. Hopefully you'll find an ending you like._


End file.
